Guitar and Video Games
by theherocomplex
Summary: It's not entirely accurate to say that Donatello almost gave himself away because of a video game, but since the alternative is to say he almost gave himself away because of a Halloween costume, he's going to stick with the video game story.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I can never leave well enough alone. This takes place about a year after my "Suspended Animation" one-shot, and features the same versions of the characters.

For pandasize.

* * *

It's not entirely accurate to say that Donatello almost gave himself away because of a video game, but since the alternative is to say he almost gave himself away because of a Halloween costume, he's going to stick with the video game story.

* * *

Friday nights had been game nights for the past eight years, but with April in Japan for the summer, game night has suffered. On the surface, she was there to study. True, to a point, but she spent more time in a dojo than she did in a classroom.

The time difference made it impossible for them to keep any sort of game going except online chess, which Raphael was opposed to on principle alone, so game night went on hiatus until she came back.

Donatello spent the summer perfecting his gaming rig, when he wasn't actively avoiding death by Kraang, or by mutant, or by Mikey-was-in-the-lab-again-oh-god-run. His brothers teased him about using a desktop, but when he tried to explain about processing power, their eyes glazed over and Raphael dredged up yet another cutting remark from his endless reservoir. As usual.

Casey stops by a few times to show off his bruises, and shakes his head over Donatello's rig. He doesn't comment past a "dude, _lame_" before meandering off to beat up someone else. Donatello lets it all roll off his shell and keeps upgrading.

The secret benefit to the desktop is that it stays in the lab, and since that's considered Donatello's domain, even Mikey tends to leave it alone on the occasions he wanders through. So that summer, Donatello loads almost ten years of pictures onto the rig and spends a few minutes every day going through them.

He'll never delete any of them, not even the ones Raphael took when Leonardo came down with the flu _and_ molted at the same time. Looking at all of them in order shows him the few changes that have marked them over the years: the day Mikey's freckles disappeared, the day Leonardo became the tallest. It's the only way he knows they're moving forward, without his usual reference point.

He's a little less obvious than he was when he first met April. Her picture isn't his desktop, and the folder with all his videos of her lacks exclamation points now. But it's all there, every piece of evidence he's collected, for a hypothesis he'll never try to prove.

A summer is just about the longest he can take, even with daily emails and Skyping as often as they can, and then she emails him a picture of herself with her plane ticket home. She looks happy.

_No, _he thinks_, not just happy. _He's watched her for so long he doesn't need to concentrate to read her facial expressions. _She looks relieved. _

It occurs to him that he might be projecting, just a little, but since the hours till she touches down are in the double-digits and steadily decreasing, he lets that pass.

* * *

April's return coincides almost perfectly with Mikey's discovery of Mass Effect.

* * *

The day before April is supposed to arrive, they're all in the pit, watching Mikey kill a plant-monster with vague Freudian undertones.

"So this thing is a Thorvian?" asks Raph. He leans in for a closer look. "That part looks like -"

"We _know_ what it looks like," Leonardo interrupts, as Donatello says "It's a Thorian, actually." His urge to correct faulty data is instinctual at this point, as is his brothers' way of ignoring him when he does. He sighs and leans back. Mikey could have killed the Thorian and its creepers ten minutes ago, if he'd paid more attention to his shields and didn't have to keep loading his last save.

A slight movement over by the turnstiles catches his eye. Another, deeper instinct narrows his focus and he's about to drop into a crouch, but then a bright shaft of surprise slips through his chest. April swings lightly over the turnstiles and waves at him, her smile white and toothy in the dim light. He waves back, pleased beyond words. No one else has noticed her yet, but he stays quiet, just to spin the moment out a little longer.

According to the calendar, there's almost four weeks of summer left, but in her brown jacket, with her hair falling over her shoulders, she's brought autumn back with her. Donatello knows exactly what she would smell like if he got close enough: wind, leaves, apples, and a hint of clean sweat underneath it all.

She winks at him, then cups her hands around her mouth and bellows.

"Guys, I'm h-"

"_APRIL_," they chorus. Even Spike stops chewing long enough to send a rheumy glance her way, and Splinter smiles as he strokes his beard.

Donatello hangs back while his brothers slalom through the lair toward her. April drops her bag and braces herself against a turnstile as Mikey slams into her. The air whooshes out of her in a laugh and she throws her arms around them all in turn.

"You're early!" Leonardo yells. "We didn't expect you till -"

"Till tomorrow, I know! But a seat opened up on an earlier flight so I grabbed it. It happened so fast I didn't think to call or text, and by the time I remembered I figured, why not surprise you guys?"

"You could have emailed from the plane." Donatello's mouth is a runaway horse. "Most international flights have internet access now."

Raph's face very clearly says _Way to go, Donnie_, and even Leo is obviously trying not to roll his eyes. He can't disagree with them, because _of course_ that would be the first thing he says to her when they're finally in the same room again.

April flicks her gaze up to his, and her face is torn between two expressions. He can only be sure of one of them, and it's a fond sort of exasperation.

_Well, she should have expected that. _He shrugs helplessly, and she laughs, shaking her head. They're accomplices now in his awkwardness. She leaps across the room in three steps to throw herself at him, and he stumbles but manages to stay on his feet when her arms loop around his neck. She smells like sugar, too.

"Missed you," she whispers into his cheek.


	2. Chapter 2

After the hugs are over, Mikey goes back to Mass Effect, and Leo and Raph go back to watching him. April follows Donatello into the lab and pushes the door shut with her hip.

"God. I'm so jetlagged that I don't even feel tired. I'm probably going to faceplant in about twenty minutes, so fair warning. But first, what've you been working on?"

"Uh, lots of stuff." He shoves a pile of blueprints onto his worktable and unrolls them. April bends over them to trace a faint white line with a finger.

"Upgrades to the Shellraiser? Nice."

"I wish you all would stop calling it that, we're not sixteen anymore." It's a token protest, and any real emphasis behind it fades when she looks up and sticks out her tongue at him. For a moment, they _are _sixteen again; she's all sharp edges and he's flummoxed, struggling for a retort.

He sticks his tongue out at her too, and she laughs and elbows him in the side. Explaining the upgrades takes seventeen of April's self-allotted twenty-minutes, and by then she's glassy-eyed and trying not to yawn.

"...and then I re-soldered the - whoa, April, this can wait. You really should get some sleep."

"It's fine, Donnie, I'm -" She immediately turns herself into a liar by breaking into a jaw-cracking yawn that she barely manages to cover with her arm. "I'm sorry, Donnie. I really want to see this. Keep talking."

"Nuh-uh. Bedtime for Ms. O'Neil." He folds his arms and does his best imitation of Leonardo doing his best imitation of Splinter.

April glares at him until she yawns again. "_Fine_. Get Mikey to shut off the TV and I'll crash on one of the couches."

"He'll be up for hours," says Donatello. "You remember what he was like when we got _Skyrim_." They both shudder at the memory. "Just crash in here."

As soon as it's out of his mouth, he cringes. April hefts a weary eyebrow in his direction.

_There's a creature out there trying to hurt my April! Our April. April. _

"In your bed." Her eyebrow quirks a little higher.

So much for not being obvious. "Yeah, this is probably the cleanest room, other than Splinter's, and no one'll bother you." Donatello shrugs. "Just an offer. I'll go yell at Mikey if you'd rather take the couch." He forces down the nervous babble trying to push its way out his mouth, and gathers up the blueprints.

"Are you sure, Donnie? I could just call a cab."

"Nah, it's late. Just crash here." He shoves the blueprints into a cabinet. His heart misses a beat, but only one. _I'm getting better at this._

April's hand squeezes his shoulder. "You're the best," she says, with feeling. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Totally. I've got some results I want to check out, so I'll be up for a while." Her hand is still on his shoulder, and if he had enough time, he'd be able to estimate how many degrees hotter her skin is. He shakes off the urge and grins at her over his shoulder. She smiles back, sleepy and warm and, for a moment, very young.

"Thanks," she says, and toes out of her boots. "I really did miss you, you know," she adds as she backs toward his bed.

"I missed you too," he says easily. He tucks his laptop under his arm. "Sleep well. Mikey's got a whole welcome-back-April day planned for you tomorrow."

"Oh god," she groans. "I take it back. I didn't miss any of you."

"Too late, April. You can't take it back now."

She murmurs something at him as she tumbles into his bed, but he doesn't catch it. He wants to stay and see if any of his well-worn fantasies come true (_stay and talk until I fall asleep, Donnie, please?_), but he slips out of the lab silently. She's already asleep by the time he closes the door.

* * *

None of this is to say that there haven't been other girls - _women _- in the past ten years. Not many, and none for too long, but sometimes a new pair of eyes or someone's hands would catch his attention, and Donatello would be lost, all giddy heat and anticipation. All four of the brothers have had crushes, and all four of them have dated, after a fashion.

Casey had been especially good at helping them along. He seemed to know everyone, in a city that prided itself on uncaring anonymity, and with a subtlety no one expected of him, he helped them make friends. _Actual_ friends, not just people they saved. So they all reached for normalcy, as much as they could get, for as long as they could hold it.

Leo gave up first. There's only one woman for him, as much as he tries to hide it. Donatello has that much in common with him. Raph and Mikey still have their fun, but Donatello can see the novelty is wearing thin. Their lives have revolved around family for so long that it's only natural they would look for something - _someone_ - more permanent.

It'll happen, one of these days, and a space will open up for whoever they bring to the lair. Then the family will close around the new addition, warm and comforting and loud, and life will go on.

Try as he might, Donatello always knew he never had to look outside for what he wanted. She's been there all along: wicked temper, clever hands, sweet laugh.

* * *

Someone pokes Donatello in the arm the next morning and he's awake instantly, hands already balled into fists.

"Dude," Mikey stage-whispers, eyes wide and impressed. "She's in your _bed._ That's progress, man! High three!"

"Yeah, and it only took ten years for it to happen. Too bad he didn't realize he should be in -"

"If you try to finish that sentence, Raph," Donatello warns, then doesn't finish his own.

Raph rolls his eyes. "What? You'll get all mad and squinty and then stomp off to the lab. Same as you always do." He goes back to his workout, grunting quietly.

_Same as you always do. _The words ring in his head, uncomfortably loud. He shifts his laptop to the side and stretches. His neck aches, but it's a small price to pay for sleeping on the couch.

When he glances over at the lab, the door is still closed.

"You should wake her up!" Mikey hisses. Why he's so invested in this, Donatello will never know, because before he can do more than glare at his brother, the door opens and April pads out, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She's barefoot, bird-like ankles visible under the cuffs of her jeans, and one side of her face is creased from his pillows.

"Morning," she mumbles sweetly at them. "Is there coffee? Please tell me there's coffee."

"There's the possibility of coffee, in the form of grounds and water and electricity," Donatello says. "I'll go make some."

She brushes her hand over his shoulder as she passes him. "No, you stay and I'll make it. Least I can do. Nice bed, by the way."

He doesn't shiver, but it's a very near thing.

"_Dude_," says Mikey again, but when Donatello glances at him, his brother just grins and goes back to killing asari commandos.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Radical is a character from the Mirage Comics era - but I love her so much she had to show up here!

* * *

Radical shows up two days later. She doesn't spare the others a glance before she locks herself and Leo in the dojo for four hours.

_Smart_, thinks Donatello. If she'd taken them into Leo's room, then no one would have had any qualms about barging in. Raph would have done it on principle. But the dojo means they could be sparring, and everyone's been electrocuted enough in their lives to avoid the dojo like it's a war zone.

It very possibly _is._

They all like Radical; she's smart, fights well, and when she's around, all of Leo's mother hen instincts get focused on her. The trouble is that Radical never stays long enough to give Leo any sort of security. Once the four hours are over, she leaves again, without a backward look.

Donatello catches April's eye over their laptops and nods toward the dojo. Leo still hasn't come out, but the door is open. She nods back and stands.

Leo is kneeling in front of the tree, head down between his shoulders. A totally unfamiliar wave of protectiveness floods Donatello; he's used to being on the receiving end, but seeing Leo so defeated makes him want to slam the door in Radical's face the next time she appears.

By the way April's shoulders are pulled tight, she feels the same way.

"Hey, Leo," she says gently. Leo ignores her. She glances at Donatello, and shrugs.

He clears his throat. "Leo, can we -"

Leo jerks to his feet and glares at them. His jaw is set, his hands are clenched, but his eyes are clear.

_Small blessings_, thinks Donatello.

"_You two_," says Leo, in a tight, unfamiliar voice, "are the last people I want to see." He shoves past them, with a hard look at April.

Donatello is surprised into silence until the door to the dojo slams closed behind Leo. When he looks at April, his _what the hell was that_ dies in his mouth. April won't look at him. Her eyes stay on the floor, and two spots of color flare high on her cheeks.

* * *

Later, Donatello sees April trying to talk to Leo, but he cuts her off with a hissed "You're a genius, figure it out!", and stomps off.

Donatello pretends not to have heard, and bends over his laptop as April slowly gathers her things. A moment later, her warm hands fall on his shoulders, right where they meet his neck.

She starts to say something, but shakes her head and kisses him next to his eye instead.

A tiny spark of the old hope flashes, and disappears as soon as she leaves. He decides just to enjoy the touch, and files it away with all the others.

* * *

Leo's sulk derails the next game night, and all pertinent super-villains take their business elsewhere for the week (Donatello feels sorry for San Francisco, really, he does, but they _were_ kind of asking for giant mutant aliens to come crawling out of the Pacific).

April texts Donatello that she's going upstate to visit her father before classes start again, and that it'll be radio silence for a week. She tells him to have something interesting to talk about when she gets back, and he nearly panics until he starts to design a giant robot to fight the giant mutant aliens. Giant robots are _always_ interesting.

That takes up the first two days, but then he's out of things to do. He spars with Mikey and Raph, and avoids Leo's room. He patrols, he actually sleeps.

He's still bored, and when he catches himself checking his phone for the third time in an hour, he decides he might as well see what this whole Mass Effect thing is all about.

His Shepard's an Engineer, of course. And Tali...well. He has a lot to say about Tali.

It's fun, and it passes the time until April comes back, wind-blown and smiling at Leo like nothing happened. Donatello's so happy to see her that he forgets all about Tali and giant robots, the memory of her kiss as warm as a candle flame cupped between his hands.

She kisses his cheek when she leaves, and something in Leo softens a little as he watches them.

* * *

With a week left before April starts her last year of grad school, Mikey discovers Mass Effect 3 Multiplayer, and the odds of the brothers leaving the lair again decrease exponentially.

April goes into full-fledged thesis panic mode, and Mikey doesn't help because he keeps calling her Dr. O'Neil until she's white-knuckled and sweating. She stops coming to the lair, and after a day goes by with her not responding to his texts, Donatello makes his way to her apartment, just after sunset.

It's rained off and on all day. The city smells almost sweet. April's living room window is open to let in the breeze, but Donatello pauses and taps on the window ledge, not entering.

"April? You home?"

The TV is on, with a Battlestar Galactica DVD menu playing in a loop. Donatello smiles and swings inside, still calling for April.

He finds her a moment later, passed out on her stomach on the couch. Paperwork covers every available flat surface. When he glances at it, he sees that most of it has to do with assisted living homes; applications and brochures mix with bank statements.

Of course. Her father isn't getting better. This has been almost a decade coming, but it still twists in him. He apologized until his jaw ached, all four of them did, and eventually April forgave them. But even after they fixed her father, he wasn't the same. Something essential in him stayed broken, and April became a family of one.

"I'm sorry," Donatello says again, staring down at April. "I'm so sorry."

She stirs sleepily and rolls onto her side. There's a moment after she opens her eyes when she doesn't recognize him, and she reaches under the cushion for her fan, but then she relaxes and smiles.

"Hey, you," she says, with a sleep-rough voice. "What time is it?"

"About seven. I just wanted to check in."

"Oh crap, I've been asleep since two." She groans and sits up, shoving her hair out of her face. "I wanted to have this done by now. Dammit." For a moment, she sounds like she's about to cry, but Donatello heads it off. He sits down next to her and nudges her bare foot with his. She jerks away, squealing.

"Cold! Cold, dammit!" Now she's laughing, and Donatello relaxes.

"You're okay?" he asks once her laughter has died down.

She nods, and only hesitates a moment before she curls into him with her legs tucked against her chest.

"I'm okay _now_," she says, with a peculiar emphasis. She wriggles under the arm he's stretched across the back of the couch and shoves her face against his neck. It's the closest they've ever been, except for brief hugs and that one horrible night she fell off a roof and he carried her seven blocks to the nearest hospital. She still has a scar, hidden by the collar of her shirt, but he doesn't need to see it to know it's there.

"Want something to eat?" she asks, half-asleep again.

He shakes his head, then remembers she can't see him. "Not right now," he says. "Maybe later."

"'Kay," she murmurs. A few minutes later, she's asleep, breathing against his neck, and his heart still hasn't slowed down.

He wakes her up at nine, long after his arm has fallen asleep. Waking her up earlier would have been smarter, but there's been a subtle but important tectonic shift in his thinking.

_You're a genius, figure it out!_

Donatello watches April move around the kitchen, scratching the back of one calf with her other foot as she calls in their dinner order, and wonders. Hope glimmers, and leaps when she turns around and gives him a soft smile he's never seen before.

He's going to test that hypothesis, after all.


	4. Chapter 4

In the weeks between April starting school and Halloween, the turtles deal with: a possessed scooter (no, really, they did, and Leo will never be the same), the Health Department shutting down their second and third favorite pizza places, aliens spraying a hockey game with hallucinogens, and a sentient computer virus that really just wanted a friend.

Donnie installs the virus on his gaming rig, and it happily takes over his old World of Warcraft account. Since it can play for 24 hours a day, Donnie finds himself running a surprisingly lucrative side business selling off all the character sets the virus creates. His Paypal accounts grow fat, and he moves the money over to the various shell (ha, _ha_) accounts April and Casey set up for them.

They've got a safety net. You know, for the day when they retire from being ninjas and...yeah.

None of them ever talk about it, but they don't believe a retirement's in the cards for them. It'll end, hopefully far enough in the future so they're not bitter when it does happen, but no one has any illusions about how. It'll end bloody and messy, but with a little luck, not alone.

* * *

"Donnie, I'm going crazy," says April over Skype, the week before Halloween. She runs her hands through her hair every nine seconds. Donnie knows, because he's been counting. "You would not believe the amount of work they've handed us. Forty-plus hours in the lab, plus office hours, plus class - when am I supposed to sleep? When am I supposed to _eat_?"

"How about now, instead of talking to me?" he suggests, without a hint of the reluctance he feels. This is the first time they've managed any kind of conversation beyond texts in three weeks. It feels too much like the summer for his taste.

April blows her bangs out of her eyes. "Hilarious. Talking to you right now is the only thing keeping me sane. And going to get something to eat means leaving the lab. Stupid to forget to pack a lunch when I know I'll be here all night."

"All night? That's not healthy."

"You're telling me," she grumbles. "Oh, Donnie, I'm sorry. I've been so busy bitching I haven't even asked how_ you've_ been. What have you guys been up to?"

"The usual," he hedges, and shifts so the splint around his wrist isn't visible. April raises her eyebrows.

"Uh-uh, Donnie. You don't get to play me like that. Besides, I already texted with Leo today. He told me about your arm." Her face softens. "How're you feeling?"

His throat closes tight. She looked like this when she slept against him, on a warm summer night, when everything smelled like rain. He wishes he could run his hand over her hair so badly he has to look away.

"Better now. Casey brought down some heavy-duty painkillers to get me through the first few days, but I only needed them after Leo splinted it. Ibuprofen works now."

"So...aliens?"

"Yeah, aliens. Still don't know _why _they chose that hockey game, but I don't think they'll be back. They were more scared of the fans than us."

April laughs, her chin in her hand. "Well, since Casey's on the well-behaved side of the scale, I'm not surprised. You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, April," he tells her, and means it. He misses her, but he's fine.

"If you say so," she says, dubious, but whatever either of them would say next is lost when her stomach rumbles, loud enough for him to hear.

"Okay, Ms. O'Neil," he says, over her protests. "You need to go get food. Now. You're making _me_ hungry. Just something from the vending machines."

She pouts, but nods. "Fine. I'll be back in a few. Will you still be around?"

"I have to run out for a bit," he says, struck by an idea that shouldn't give his wrist too much trouble. "But I'll be back in an hour or so. Talk then?"

"Talk then. Bye Donnie."

* * *

The windows to April's lab are sadly easy to pick, even one-handed. Donnie slides in, careful to hold his broken wrist against his chest, and lowers himself to the floor silently. The cartons in his backpack shift, but the noise is lost below the whirr of the centrifuge.

No one else is there; it's past midnight, and everyone else is home sleeping. April, however, is asleep on top of a pile of books, her laptop screen still open. He can see his lab on her Skype window, and his heart clenches a little.

He sets his backpack down on the table and brings out the cartons one by one. April mutters in her sleep and turns her head, blinking slowly as the smells of egg foo yong and scallion pancakes fill the air.

"Wha - Donnie? What?" She sits up and rubs her eyes like a little girl. "You're here?"

"Yep. More importantly, so's dinner." He holds out a box of fried rice and a pair of chopsticks. "Eddie Lang at the Jade Dragon says hi, and to get some rest."

"Oh my god, you brought me _dinner?_" She beams at him, eyes glowing, the color high in her cheeks. "You are...Donnie, this is amazing."

"No problem," he says, and ducks his head. Twenty-six years old, and he still blushes like an idiot.

"Was this the errand you had to run out for?" She pokes him in the leg with her chopsticks. "You jerk. You should have told me, so I wouldn't be drooling all over the table when you got here."

"And ruin the surprise? Much better this way." He opens the box of egg rolls and sends a silent thanks to Eddie for packing enough food for three people. "Besides, you would have told me to stay home and rest my wrist. I didn't want to get caught up in your Catholic guilt."

"Oh, screw you, Donnie," she says through a laugh, and steals one of his egg rolls. "Nice backpack, by the way. Very nineties."

"April," he says sweetly, "shut up and eat your dinner."

* * *

An hour later, they're both pleasantly stuffed and failing to resist a food coma. April spins lazily on her stool, and Donnie watches her.

"That was so good," she groans, rubbing her stomach. "But I'm never going to eat again. I can't believe we ate _everything._"

"Job well done," he mumbles sleepily. "Gold star in eating like a ninja."

"I can't believe you guys eat like this every night. How are you not dead? Your arteries must be -"

"Some thanks," he sighs, with the most put-upon air he can muster. "I come all this way, in the dark, in the _cold_, bearing food, and all you can do is mock me. You wound me, April, to my core."

"Oh, be quiet." She kicks at his leg and misses, so he kicks back and catches her foot with his. She gasps.

"God. You're fast."

"_Ninja_, April," he teases, still with his foot locked around her ankle, and then he realizes she's not trying to pull away. Instead, she's running her foot up his leg.

"Yeah, but - it's different, seeing it here as opposed to when you're bashing the Foot or some Kraang, you know?" She grins at him. "You're just Donnie right now, not a ninja."

She kicked off her shoes a long time ago, and he can feel the warmth of her skin through her thin sock as she slides her foot up the side of his calf. "April."

When she glances up at him through her lashes, her smile sweetens unexpectedly, and she leans a few inches closer. "Yeah?"

"You're..." _You're so close. You're lovely. You know exactly what you're doing, don't you? _He hears a faint mechanical chime, and swallows. "Your results are in."

She blinks. "My what?"

"Your uh, results."

"Oh, shit!" she yelps, and stumbles as she tries to slide off her stool, her leg still tangled with his. He catches her with his good arm, and waits till she's steady before letting her go. "Be back in a second!"

Donnie lets out a low, shuddering breath, and gathers up the cartons while he waits. Bad lab habits to leave boxes of food lying around. He even has time to wipe down the counter before April comes back, face drawn with the dark circles under her eyes even darker.

"I have to run the whole cycle again," she says. "It's going to take hours." She reaches up, ready to run her fingers through her hair again. Donnie catches her wrist and gives her what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

"Can I take a look?" he asks. "A fresh set of eyes might help."

April's face crumples into pure relief, and Donnie has less than a second to swing his bad wrist out of the way before she pulls him into a tight hug.

"You're a lifesaver, Donnie," she murmurs into his neck. "Thank you."

He steels himself, ready with the first part of his hypothesis, and drops a kiss on her forehead.

_Theory: forehead kisses are not for just friends; therefore, if she accepts a forehead kiss, she is not resistant to the idea. _

"Not resistant" is a long way from "actively interested", but when April presses closer, her mouth hot against his throat, he shivers and gives her another kiss, right by her eye.

"Results," she says, clearing her throat but not quite pulling away.

"Results," he says. "Right."


End file.
